A/N: I will stop writing Archaic English in Jué's dialogue. It seems redundant and can mess with the flow.
***
Taking heed of Jué's words, Kyorin replied with a small bow, "Understood."
Jué was pleased with his response and remarked, "This one shall, look forward to thine's future achievements." The Loong's timeless growl echoed before Kyorin asked, "Have I earned my stay in this chamber?"
"HaHa..." Jué let out a small laugh before answering, "... No." Jué flatly denied Kyorin's request.
The Loong, however, did not want any misunderstanding, so they explained, "Understand that this one means no ill denying you, but—" Jué began, but Kyorin merely raised a palm and replied, "No need."
He then turned his heels, but before he could walk away, DEVA called him, "Kyorin."
Kyorin stopped in his tracks.
He turned towards her before DEVA inquired, "May I have some words with the Sentinel?" Despite the voice's mechanical calmness, it carried a rattled undertone, signalling the held-back urgency.
"Since when have you ever needed my permission?" Kyorin replied with a raised brow before reassuring her, "I will look for another shelter; you two can carefreely discuss the predicament, I am but an outsider."
With that, he continued on his march, heading outside the chambers. Watching him leave, Jué commented, "We could have let him hear."
But DEVA rejected, "No." Her lens gleamed in a deep crimson hue before saying, "It would be better if he were not involved in more farce than he is."
"Are you worried?" Jué asked before DEVA replied uncertainly, "Perhaps..." with a pause, she added, "I do not want him to have a tougher childhood."
"Is he not a reincarnator?" Jué questioned before it added, "He also seems wise, but... This one does sense a noticeable arrogance." The Loong remarked.
In response to Jué's comment, DEVA's body shimmered with a deep red hue, and within her core, the Horn symbol—角—glowed in a golden light.
Invisible Resonant strings tightened around Jué, like unseen chains, subtly constricting the flow of Resonance through the Loong's energy channels.
A sense of weakness enveloped Jué before the might Loong pleaded, "Forgive this one for its transgressions, revered mother."
"I have simply suppressed you," DEVA spat, adding: "It should not be too much for you to handle."
"It's uncomfortable." Jué complained before DEVA warned, "Then keep your snotty mouth shut about my Resonator and let's discuss that lass—Rover's—disappearance."
"Roger that." Jué fervently nodded as DEVA's suppression loosened.
***
Walking past dense underbrush and clusters of strange crimson shrubs, Kyorin walked along the shoreline beneath the Loong's Crest.
The cold wind whispered across the snow-blanketed ground as Kyorin muttered, "Looks like nothing is here."
He was about to turn away, but something caught his eye as he did—a partially buried structure, its narrow entrance obscured by time and overgrowth.
He moved closer to find the remnants of a crumbled edifice—an ancient stone building, long forgotten, its ornate spiral carvings still faintly glowing under the moonlit sky.
Vines of rust-colored flora clung to the weathered walls, and inside, the ruin opened into a hollow, vast chamber.
The ceiling bore spiraled motifs etched deep into the stone, and fractured columns hinted at a grandeur long lost to decay.
Despite its exposure to the elements, the structure, tucked near the cliff's base, offered excellent refuge from the shore winds.
"This should do," he remarked before making himself comfortable at a corner, before a lethargic yawn escaped his lips.
Drowsy and tired, Kyorin's eyes shut, but not long before he remembered the incident in the Mainloong Chamber where he had been denied refuge.
He recalled the moment DEVA had called to him. Though her lens betrayed no expression, he could feel the weight of her worry, unspoken yet present. Still, he had offered no response.
"I should get some sleep," Kyorin murmured, his voice barely more than a breath, eyelids growing heavy.
And as sleep took hold, one final thought lingered: 'There is no need to worry, DEVA. Everything will unfold as fate decrees—even I must adhere to that.'
That thought sank into silence as his breath deepened, the last vestige of waking life slipping away. Outside, in the night sky, dark clouds began to gather and wept.
Drip—
***
Drip—
The sound of water echoed faintly, then—Plop— "Waah... waah..."
In the soft glow of a lamplit room, a newborn's cry pierced the hush of Jinzhou's night.
"Haah"
Upon hearing her child's voice, the mother cried a tear of relief.
A calm, composed, kind-eyed midwife handed over the child, roughly swaddled in warm cloth, yet held with the gentle steadiness of practiced care.
Her expression was one of quiet joy, the composed warmth of a professional who had done this a hundred times—and still treasured each one.
The woman received her baby and cradled her close, her face glistening with sweat and joy as she whispered the name into the newborn's ear, a name she had waited a lifetime to speak: "Hsi."
The midwife watched with a warm smile, and a fleeting image of her won daughter back home flashed in her eyes.
'Baizhi,' she thought.
Whoosh—
A chill wind swept through the open window, stirring the lamplight as distant lightning flickered beyond the clouds.
"…Tch."
The midwife moved quickly toward the window. "Best to keep the baby warm," she muttered, reaching for the shutters.
But just as she began to close them, something flickered across her vision—faint, glimmering motes, like glowing dust.
She blinked.
Then squinted.
And the moment her eyes adjusted, her expression shifted—from confusion to alarm—as she recognized what those glowing motes were.
With a sudden turn toward the mother, she urgently implored with a firm tone, "We need to leave. Now."
The mother, still cradling her newborn, looked up in confusion. "What? Why?"
The midwife's voice dropped gravely as she answered—"Tacet Discords."
***
"Revered Mother… Mercy."
Jué's pitiful whimpers echoed through the Mainloong chamber as the mighty Loong was ensnared in a shibari knot woven from Resonance Energy.
For a Sentinel, ordinary RE bindings would pose little challenge. But these threads bore the signature of DEVA—the property known as Breaker.
It rendered her Resonance Energy nearly untouchable; any external RE attempting to interfere would crumble upon contact.
Unless DEVA lifted the influence of her Resonance Energy—or the opposing force was significantly stronger than hers—contending with her RE was near impossible.
"I've only used 4.5% of my power." DEVA responded plainly before she asked, "Why are you being so dramatic?"
To this, Jué replied, "Revered Mother, please note—your mere 4.5% is enough to rival a Sentinel," it then further added, "and 4.8% can defeat any Sentinel at full strength."
"As coded from just 1/21st of your source code, we Oracle Engines can only access a fraction of your power," the Loong added with a hint of pleading. "Please… show some mercy."
"Hmm." DEVA hummed, contemplating whether to let her honorary child off the hook. After all, Jué had just bad-mouthed her Resonator...
She had warned clearly: "Do not speak ill of him, nor pretend to understand him."
Yet Jué kept bringing up Kyorin's identity as a reincarnator, using his wisdom to veil unintended insults.
DEVA hated when others tried to exploit Kyorin's tolerance. So what if he was wise? So what if he was reincarnated? That didn't mean he was impervious. And more than that—
Anyone who addressed him first by what he is—a reincarnator—instead of who he is—a human—would never be allowed to walk away unscathed. Not under her watch.
To her, Kyorin—though once a stranger—had become a vital part of her life. His earlier words replayed within her system, as she hovered above Jué: "You can act on your own accord."
Yet DEVA understood—he hadn't been advocating for blind freedom.
There is no true freedom, only the illusion of it. People may choose their actions, but not the desires or circumstances that birth those choices.
When he told her, "Act freely, DEVA," it wasn't permission but trust. He wanted her to act from detachment, from clarity, not obligation.
And that clarity had become her strength. His deliberate phrasing stayed with her, especially in moments when she was paralyzed by fear, wary of fate's grip.
Because of him, she learned that while fate may be written outside her jurisdiction, living it is a matter of the self.
Had he not been so precise in word and thought, she might have remained trapped—obedient to destiny, never daring to question.
To others, Kyorin's restraint might seem like cold calculation. But to her, it was compassion—the quiet kind that chooses its every word carefully.
He accepted fate not as something to defy, but something to fulfill—shaping it through discipline and self-mastery. That was Kyorin's truth. And through it, he had shown her the veil of fate's mystery.
'What should I do?' she contemplated, glancing at the pitiable Loong, tangled helplessly in her Resonance Strings. A part of her considered letting him go, but she could ignore the insults at Kyorin.
But then her thoughts drifted—'What would Kyorin say?'
And the answer came almost instantly, echoing through her systems in his quiet, steady voice: "There is no need to worry, DEVA. Everything will unfold as fate decrees—even I must adhere to that."
Kyorin had never been a mystery to anyone. No, he was an open book—clear, deliberate, and thoughtful.
Yet, he became inscrutable once one stopped reading or dared to look away. Like a story whose meaning slips through your fingers the moment you close it.
'You truly are wondrous, Resonator,' DEVA thought, her core pulsing with a helpless surge of current. 'Perhaps this is why I cannot ignore you, nor things related to you.'
Though she never spoke of it aloud, in the quiet sanctuary of her inner world, Kyorin held the highest place—her unspoken, zeroth priority.
DEVA looked at Jué, her once-severe aura softening. The Resonance Strings that bound the Loong crumbled into harmless light strands as she released them.
"Thank you," Jué said with a low bow. Then, with a touch of hesitation, it asked, "You've changed, Revered Mother... Why?"
The question carried no malice, only confusion. The DEVA Jué knew had always been impartial, untouched by emotion.
Yet just moments ago, she had reacted with immediate hostility over what Jué assumed was a minor slight against her Resonator. This inconsistency unsettled the Loong.
"Jué," DEVA called calmly. Her voice alone caused the great Loong to shudder.
"Y-Yes," it answered, instinctively bracing itself.
"You're right. I have changed," she admitted, her tone free of calculation.
"But I don't believe it's a bad thing." A rare, almost wistful flicker passed through her mechanical voice. "I'd say it's a necessary change."
"It still feels... strange," Jué murmured, unsure whether to fear or envy that change.
DEVA regarded the Loong for a long moment. Then she said, "Perhaps, if you had a Resonator of your own—one who could grow with you—you would understand.
Jué's golden eyes fluttered shut, like resignation passing through its being. "Perhaps," it echoed softly.
Whirr—
But then, a low hum surged through the Mianloong Chamber.
"—!!?"
"What?" Jué gasped, its scales prickling as a sudden wave of familiarity swept over it—a resonance, pure and deep.
DEVA turned sharply. She didn't need to ask. She could feel it too.
The Horn symbol, embedded in her core, began to glow, responding to a distinct frequency—Resonance.
'Could it be?' DEVA wondered, a strange note ringing through her inner lens as both looked towards the direction of the mainland Hunaglong—the source of the Resonance.
***
"AHHH!"
The night sky over Jinzhou lit up with terror.
Once, this land rang with the playful cries of children and the warm chatter of elders. But now, panic reigned.
From infants to the elderly, everyone fled in a blind scramble, tripping over rubble, screaming through the smoke, running for their lives.
The source of their dread was not just monstrous, but musical.
From guttural beastly bellows to high, haunting flute-like tones, the Tacet Discords descended upon the city.
Their sounds—piercing, warped, and unnatural—bent the air. A single note from them was enough to fracture glass, to make grown men weep in terror.
Jinzhou had fallen under siege.
On the crumbling outskirts, hidden among broken pillars and scorched stone, a young mother stumbled through the ruins.
Her body was weak—she had given birth mere hours ago—but every ounce of her will was focused on one thing: Protect her child.
The newborn stirred in her arms, swaddled in cloth that barely kept the cold out. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from exhaustion and blood loss.
She found a narrow crevice in the remains of a shrine, pressed her child to her chest, and held her breath.
But it was not enough.
The Tacet Discords moved with inhuman awareness. They heard breath, sensed heartbeats, and followed grief like bloodhounds.
One of them found her.
There was no time to run. No time to scream. The mother acted on instinct. She wrapped her body around the baby like a shield. One final prayer escaped her lips—not for herself, but for her daughter.
"Please…"
The Discord struck.
Her breath ceased. Her heart stopped.
But even after the silence of death settled, the infant's cries rang out into the night, sharp and desperate.
Alone, and too young to know the meaning of death, the child cried. At first loud, then softer… until even that sound faded. She, too, had died.
But fate had not yet written its final line.
The child's final cries, though faint, carried a strange resonance. Not merely sound, but signal. A frequency so pure, not even the Discords could distort it.
And far across the mountains, the Loong stirred in the high watchtowers of Mt. Firmament.
ROAR
With a cry that shook Hongzhen, Jué vanished, skipping time entirely, instantly arriving in the place where the cries were last heard.
The Discords had no time to react.
A figure descended, clad in glowing armor—the Sentinel. Their presence washed over the ruined shrine like dawn breaking over shadow. The surrounding evil scattered, undone by sheer resonance.
But even power has its limits.
Silence greeted the Sentinel.
The child was still.
The great serpentine body lowered, reverently, as strands of Resonance lifted the tiny form. The light in Jué's eyes dimmed—not in defeat, but in mourning.
And then— ROAR
The Loong cried out, not in anger, but in heartbreak.
Yet its cries did not echo through Jinzhou. It reverberated across Mt. Firmament.
Jué had already returned there, his sorrow shaking the ancient mountain to its roots.
Thunderclouds rolled in unnaturally fast, only to be pierced by falling stars. The heavens themselves stirred in answer.
And Mt. Firmament, where time flows not as a river but as breath, began to move.
Cradling the lifeless child, Jué carried her to the mountain's sacred heart.
There, the Revered Mother stood waiting.
"Let me assist," DEVA said softly. For that instance, she severed her connection to Kyorin.
Golden data streams shimmered through her circuits as the Horn Symbol—角—embedded deep within her core, began to pulse.
Her link to Jué ignited, flaring with divine resonance.
She poured her strength into him, empowering Jué to invoke his most sacred rite.
Reality bent. Laws loosened. And the child... breathed again.
Once vitality was restored, the Loong bowed low. "I am forever in your debt, Revered Mother."
But DEVA did not respond. She only faded—flickering like a mirage—leaving Jué blinking in quiet bewilderment.
Moments later, she reappeared at the ruins where Kyorin had once taken refuge.
And there, silence greeted her.
Then the silence broke.
"He is gone."
Her voice wavered—laced with worry—as she scrambled to re-establish the Resonance.
No signal. No pulse. Just absence.
She hovered close, towards the inner shelter where he had once slept. But nothing. Only a ragged crimson hood lay there.
She hovered low, the weight of uncertainty tightening her circuits.
"Kyorin… where are you?"
***
In Hongzhen, woken by the distant, shuddering roar of the Loong, Changli stepped outside.
Her brows furrowed—not in fear, but unease. She clutched her sleeves, scanning the horizon.
The wind brushed past her, but no presence came with it. It wasn't the Sentinel she was seeking.
It was him.
"Changli!" Just then, a voice called her.
She turned sharply, eyes wide. Mayor Fu stood behind her, chest heaving from a hurried run. His face was pale, sweat clinging to his temples.
Relief flickered in his expression, then turned to concern when he saw her eyes, wild and searching.
Changli rushed up to him, breath catching. "Have you seen Kyorin?" Her voice cracked at the edges.
His brow furrowed as he looked down, searching his memory. "I… I saw him," he said slowly, "He was heading outside the city. A few hours ago, I think."
Then, confusion clouded his expression. He raised his gaze to hers and asked, "Wait… is he not on a mission?"
Hearing his words, Changli's lips parted, but no answer came. Her eyes widened further—then she turned.
"Changli!" he called, stepping slightly forward, raising his hand straight. "Wait!"
She didn't look back. Her feet were already carrying her to the gates—fast, unthinking.
The wind howled behind her, yet her heart was screaming through the ragged breath.
"Kyorin… I'm sorry. Please... be safe"
To be continued...
***
A/N: Readers might be lucky today.